


tourniquet

by pathtothetreeoflife



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse warning, Emotional abuse warning, Please read with caution, Vent Writing, or more so everything i have to say now that im out of this situation, this is... my story of emotional abuse, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:46:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18855031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathtothetreeoflife/pseuds/pathtothetreeoflife
Summary: I was madly in love with someone who’s sole interest was to drag me down to Hell with them.





	tourniquet

 

At this point I’ve come to ask myself many times why I bite my tongue to protect your name.

 

I never wanted a story like this. I never imagined I would ever have a story like this to tell in my lifetime, yet here I am, looking at scabbed wounds and shittily tied tourniquets with bad memories of fucked-up love not too far from my mind, always, constantly haunting me in the present and I’m sure it will follow me in the future too. That’s the worst about this whole thing: I have been down the road of recovery before, shaken off traumas caused by other people, healed myself and became a happier person. Then, you came along.

 

I have a million and one things I want to say to you. Many of them questions demanding answers, like why, what did I do to deserve it, and, will you ever consider apologizing to me? I don’t need to ask though, when I already know the truths behind your horrifically miserable lies. You know them too, don’t you, ~~~~~~\------~~ ? 

 

I can’t hate you. I hate myself that I can’t hate you. You know what you did wrong, you openly admitted to me that you knew what you did wrong, yet not once did you ever make an effort to try and bounce back from the awful shit you said to me, the horrific shit you did to my head. God, that’s so fucked up to think about. I was madly in love with someone who’s sole interest was to drag me down to Hell with them. Am I supposed to just fucking cope with that? Realize that I was only good enough for you to be showed off but never loved back as much as I tried to give? That I was, inevitably, more of an object to you than a human being that has a heart, that longs to be loved and held close by someone who actually cares about them.

 

That’s just your problem though. I’m sure, one day, maybe soon or even years later, you’ll ask yourself how so many consequences came back to bite you in the ass. The only thing I would be able to give in return as a piece of advice from me to you is that maybe, just maybe, you should stop seeing people as pawns. You may win a couple rounds of chess and the game played out how you wanted it to, but never forget that even a King and Queen can fall hard to defeat from bad choices.

 

But in reality’s case though, there’s no retries. There’s no clearing the board and setting the pieces up again. No, we’re all quite alive and breathing no matter how doll like we are. Humans are not your toys. I will spoon feed you that bullshit until you choke on it if I have to, but you’ve got to understand that: human fucking beings aren’t your fucking toys. 

 

You do understand this  _ isn’t  _ a game, right? Because it wasn’t, hasn’t been, and will never be. People don’t need your approval to live their lives, yet I have strongly misunderstood the power of someone who goes through life cracking apart the little things that made others whole just for fun. That’s not right. That’s terrifying.

 

I believe once you understand the difference between a chess game and humans, you might find life to be a bit simpler to live. 

 

But at this point, I have a firm suspicion I’m not your first victim. It’s suspicious as Hell for someone to constantly call themself problematic and to also simultaneously have a lot of those crazy exs and crazy ex friends. I have seen the way you react to being called out on your bullshit, and I think that’s why it took me so long to say that I’d had enough. You were not only so in denial of the shit you said and did, but you always went as far as to twist it around on the other person. It’s why I couldn’t speak up against you. I knew what was waiting for me, just around the corner of every conversation. 

 

I always felt like I was walking on fucking eggshells. Every single late night phone call was so fucking uncomfortable after a while. Most of the time, it was me piecing together small things I could say without setting you off on a rant that belittled my innocent interests or blatantly writing off what I had to say. It was so painful, reflecting back on it. I shouldn’t have to feel like that with someone who constantly claimed to be passionately in love with me. I shouldn’t have to feel like I can’t be myself with someone who texted me sweet-nothings, declaring that they loved me for me. 

 

Now it’s over. I ended it over text, mostly because I was scared to find out what happened if I called you. It’s been almost two entire months since I decided I had my fill of what was going on. I think the saddest part about it was me not entirely knowing what  _ was _ going on, why everything felt so off, and me turning to a friend to confide in them about what happened and what was still going on. After recounting  **incident** after  **incident** of details I thought at the time were simply just things I should write off, that friend and two others IMMEDIATELY pulled me away from you and said they were worried for my safety if I continued to stay around you. They pointed out all the gas lighting, the insults, the emotional and mental abuse. When my mother found out everything that happened, she was mortified. To think the nice person she’d spoken with had done all of that to her child. 

 

Can you imagine how terrified I was to think someone like you was an abuser? But sure enough… none of them were wrong. It scared the shit out of me, having all the facts laid out in front of my face and the connections made. My God, my first love was an abuser. That’s a nightmare scenario. That’s the horrific reality I have to at some point, in some way, come to peace with. So far, after all these days, it hasn’t happened.

 

I don’t think I ever will. 

 

I’m sure you ran my name through the dirt. Your sisters have cut contact with me abruptly and I’m a little uneasy about that, not knowing what kind of picture you’ve painted of me when I know what kind of person you are now. I’m sure you’ve had your fun in making me out to be another one of those crazy exs of yours. I’m sure you’re on to hunting for your next victim, to which I sincerely hope never happens. No one deserves a monster like you. No one deserves to be treated in the same way I did. All I have left is to cross my fingers and pray you will have to come face to face with what you’ve done, that someone more courageous than me will come forward and expose you.

 

This is practically all I have left. Vaguely writing about you, vaguely writing about what you did to me. I want to, so desperately, scream at the top of my lungs about what happened. I’ve been doing nothing but making little things to distract me from how I’m really feeling, which is so twisty and fucked up inside now that I have no choice but to deal with the aftermath while you skip away, openly free and happy now that you’ve picked apart yet another human being and left them clutching their gaping bleeding wounds while you licked the blood off of your teeth, satisfied you’ve had your fill of yet another innocent persons will to live. You leech off of other people until they have no more.

 

I have nothing more to say. This, completely, was a glance at my soul. I really don’t know what to do with myself anymore. It’s like every day is waking up, only to remember something I repressed you did months ago, falling apart and having panic attacks. It’s the worst. It’s awful.

 

I have faith in myself. Like I said, I’ve been down this road of recovery before, and it seems I will have to go and do it again. You are not my problem anymore and I sure fucking hope no one else will accept that behavior from you like I did. 

 

As people, as the victims you’ve made, we deserved better.

**Author's Note:**

> i needed to write this. i have so badly wanted to extensively talk about everything that happened but im not that bold yet and im still taking care of myself. i have frequent nightmares about my abuser. i have frequent panic attacks remembering some of the worst moments in it all. i want to give up. but i refuse.
> 
> please... for the love of god, if you're in a bad situation like i was, don't wait. please leave. talk to someone you trust and please... please leave. its not worth their happiness keeping you under their control.


End file.
